


Sugarbaby

by Sulwen



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Glam Rock RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-03
Updated: 2010-11-03
Packaged: 2017-10-13 01:14:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/131166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sulwen/pseuds/Sulwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam gets a taste.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sugarbaby

Tommy scurries into the room before Adam even has a chance to see inside, and Adam laughs to himself as he closes the door and sets the keycard on a nearby table. Tommy's hedonistic tendencies are never going to get old, partially because Adam totally understands where he's coming from. When you're used to just barely getting by, it's pretty amazing to suddenly be surrounded by expensive, luxurious things all the time. Adam's had enough time now to start to get used to it, though he tries every day to be thankful for what he's got. But Tommy...Tommy's still in that first flush of infatuation with the whole lifestyle, and Adam loves being around that, loves having someone to help keep him grounded and appreciative. He really doesn't want to turn into a diva. Well. _Too_ much of a diva.

So it's become a habit, when they're in hotels, for Tommy to come and hang out with Adam in his big rooms and fancy suites, pleasantly killing time together before bed. Adam leans back against the door and crosses his arms, smiling fondly as he watches Tommy explore. Tommy goes to the bed first, as usual, flopping down on it and letting his head sink into the pillows, rubbing his hands over the blankets to feel their texture. He rolls around a bit, side to side, and to Adam, he looks like nothing so much as a kitten, stretching out and arching his back like that. Then he hops up and goes into the bathroom, and Adam knows he's checking out the shower, the tub, sifting through the baskets of miniature freebies on the counter.

While he's out of sight, Adam moves further into the room, dropping his overnight bag in a chair and rolling his shoulders, shrugging off the lingering feeling of the weight. Then he bends down to unzip the bag, looking for his phone. He _knows_ it's in there somewhere, just put it in not ten minutes before, and this has to be the only downside of jeans this tight – completely useless pockets. But before he can find it, he hears Tommy's voice behind him, and turns to see what his friend is so excited about.

"Oh my _god,_ Adam, look!" Tommy says, going to the coffee table in the center of the room and reaching down to it. There, in a shallow glass bowl, are a handful of spherical candies wrapped in gold foil, crinkled edges sparkling in the gentle light. Tommy snatches one and looks at the label on the side. "Holy shit, I can't even pronounce it. Must be good!" he exclaims, tearing the wrapper off. Adam gets only the barest glimpse of deep brown – _chocolate, of course it's chocolate_ – before Tommy pops the whole thing into his mouth. He closes his eyes, his jaw moving just slightly as he rolls it around on his tongue, and _fuck,_ that's Tommy moaning, _moaning_ at the taste. Adam can't once remember Tommy being that vocal about food, and he clenches his fists and tries not to imagine what it tastes like. He thinks about his chin instead, every goddamned picture of him looking down at the crowd, that horrible ugly roll of fat that he can't get to go away no matter what he tries to do.

"Adam, c'mere, you have to try these," Tommy says, voice muffled through melting chocolate.

Adam licks his lips, hesitating a second, but then he turns away, back to his bag. "That's ok. You have them," he says, starting to dig again. That fucking phone is in here, it _is,_ it's just hiding somewhere, has to be.

He can hear Tommy's footsteps approaching and grits his teeth. Stupid fucking hotels and their stupid tempting free shit. "No, seriously, it's _so_ good, just have a taste," Tommy says.

Stupid well-meaning friends.

"Tommy, I'm fine. Really. I just ate."

"Dude, you so didn't. Come on, one little bite isn't going to make a difference. Besides, people still thought you were a sex god twenty pounds ago. Chill out and try it."

And Adam really, really doesn't want to go off on Tommy, because this isn't his fault, even though Adam does kind of hate him sometimes for staying so goddamned skinny on a diet of burritos and beer. He takes a deep breath and turns around, standing, keeping a tight hold on the anger that's suddenly reared up in his head. And there's Tommy, right behind him, eyes wide and expectant, a chocolate truffle unwrapped and offered by the tips of his fingers. Adam's eyes lock onto it, smooth and shining and slowly melting at the edges under the heat of Tommy's skin. He licks his lips again, staring, feeling opposite desires tug and pull within him.

Tommy waits, but when Adam doesn't make a move, he shrugs and says, "Fine. More for me." Then he pops the truffle in his mouth, just like the first one, and Adam watches the pleasure play out on his face. When it's gone, Tommy looks down at his fingertips, sees where the chocolate has melted in uneven ovals onto two fingers and a thumb. Then he brings his middle finger to his mouth, closes his lips around it, and sucks, eyes closing again as he does so.

And fucking _hell,_ that's just not fair, Tommy standing there with his eyelashes fanned across his cheeks and his cheeks hollowed out with the suction and his lips pouting out in a perfect little O around one long finger. Adam's lips part, and all the breath goes out of him in a whoosh, and he makes some sort of little squeaking sound that's half frustration and half desire and entirely involuntary.

Tommy hears and opens his eyes, and that's not any better at _all,_ because Tommy's eyes are just exactly the color of really good milk chocolate, a thought that Adam hasn't ever had before but thinks is probably around to stay. Slowly, Tommy starts to pull his finger out of his mouth, wet and glistening and catching on his bottom lip, and fuck the calories, that is _it._

Adam grabs Tommy's hand and pulls it up to his mouth in one quick yank, closing his lips around Tommy's index finger and tonguing at the smooth melted chocolate on its tip, and oh, it's been so long since he let himself have real sugar, way too long. The taste jolts him like a shock to the tongue, and it would almost be too sweet but for the slight tang of salty skin beneath, rough calluses uncovered as he licks and sucks the chocolate away. Adam's already moved on to Tommy's thumb when the sound Tommy's making breaks through his consciousness, a high breathy moan that sounds almost like his reaction to first tasting the candy moments before, only more intense, more desperate, and there's no chocolate in his mouth now. He opens his eyes and sees Tommy's eyes closed, his mouth open, panting, and oh. _That's_ interesting.

The chocolate is gone now, only the taste of Tommy's wet skin remaining, but Adam keeps licking anyway, watching Tommy react, seeing how his breath hitches when Adam runs the flat of his tongue up the length of a finger, how his brow knits and his body tenses when Adam flicks at a fingertip with the tip of his tongue. And then he notices a tiny smudge of chocolate on the corner of Tommy's lips, and he realizes that Tommy's mouth is probably full of the taste, sweet and hot and so very right there, and he doesn't even think, just draws Tommy's hand away from his mouth and pulls, jerking Tommy off-balance and right up against his body. Tommy's eyes fly open, and he stares up at Adam, gasping, open-mouthed, but Adam doesn't even slow, just bends down and kisses him, hot and wet and dirty, tongue chasing after that taste, that so-sweet, amazing, fucking _addictive_ taste.

When every last remnant of sweetness is gone, Adam looses his grip on Tommy, and they break apart as one, Tommy stumbling back a step before regaining his balance. His lips are wet and swollen, and those chocolate-brown eyes are blown wide, staring.

"Fucking _Christ,_ Adam! That was...." Tommy starts, but his voice fades away, like he can't think of the right word to finish that sentence.

Adam knows how he feels. So, instead of trying to find a response, he turns around one last time and starts going through his bag again.

Tommy's voice is all confusion when he speaks. "Adam? What...what are you doing?"

And finally, there it is, sitting cheekily right on top of everything, like it's been there all along and Adam's just been too blind to fucking see it. He's annoyed for a split-second, but then it's gone, and he stands and smirks and shows Tommy the phone resting in his outstretched hand.

"Baby, settle in. I'm calling room service."


End file.
